


In The Pines

by jujubiest



Category: Criminal Minds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The BAU travels to the quaint, sleepy town of Demorest, Georgia, where a sudden spike in violent crime has the local police baffled. Five apparently unconnected victims have been found brutally murdered, and no one can seem to decide whether these cases are the work of one killer...or the start of a murder epidemic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Pines

* * *

_"Out of the hills of Habersham,_   
_Down the valleys of Hall,_   
_I hurry amain to reach the plain,_   
_Run the rapid and leap the fall,_   
_Split at the rock and together again,_   
_Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,_   
_And flee from folly on every side_   
_With a lover's pain to attain the plain_   
_Far from the hills of Habersham,_   
_Far from the valleys of Hall."_   
_-Sidney Lanier_

* * *

 

What is it like, in those last moments of human life? Do the lungs strain? Does the heart quicken? Do the nerves fire twice as hard while the synapses in the brain streak lightning throughout the body, begging the voice to call out or the hands to do something, anything, to keep this flesh from perishing and taking the mind down with it? Will you know your last breath for what it is? And what comes after? What comes after? 

As with many of life's most important questions, the answers can only can only be learned through doing...a method which is both obvious and fundamentally repugnant to most.

Take the young girl on her back in the dirt, pine needles tangled in her hair and tear tracks drying on her face: she knew the answer was coming and she fought it with every ounce of her being. Her nails are broken, fingers caked with dirt and blood from her desperate attempts to claw her way to safety. The palms of her hands are scraped and bloody, likewise the skin of her knees. Her right ankle was broken, beginning to swell and turn a dark purple, before she died. Even now, hours later, her face is a rictus of pain and terror. Her hands form fists, clenched one on top of the other against her stomach, as though she thought she might be able to keep her insides from spilling out of the gaping, bloody wound. Her head is twisted severely to the side, as if it tried in her last moments to abandon the sinking ship of the rest of her immobile body. Her pale blue eyes are open wide, glassy and staring at nothing forever. They are filled with fear and a terrible reflection of knowledge...of an answer to the question: what happens when we die?

* * *

"This is Hailee Carpenter, aged 21 of Demorest, Georgia. She was found in the park across from Piedmont College yesterday afternoon by some students on their morning jog."

The image on the screen is cringe-worthy, as usual. The six profilers in the room study it without any apparent emotion, trained to set that aside and study the gruesome image for clues. To an outsider it would seem cold, inhuman. But to the members of the BAU, it's the way they catch the killers and stop them from bringing more victims across their screen.

"The M.E.'s report revealed a broken jaw and ankle, cracked ribs, and multiple minor lacerations to the face, forearms, and legs." Hotch's voice is as even and clinical as ever. His job is not only to profile, but to lead the team as well. His behavior sets the tone for theirs, and he knows this. He can make their jobs harder or easier. He always opts to make it easier.

"There is evidence to suggest she fought back, even tried to escape her attacker. This is the fifth homicide in the Northeast Georgia area in the last month." He motions to Garcia, who clicks the remote to add four more images to the screen: a middle-aged African-American man, a redheaded Caucasian man who looks to be in his early thirties, a young Hispanic woman, and an elderly Caucasian woman. "All different MOs, and the victims cross demographic lines of race, gender, and socioeconomic status. Other than the location, there doesn't seem to be anything connecting them."

Agent Jennifer "JJ" Jareau speaks up, blue eyes moving from the screen to Hotch, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Five victims in a month...that's a quick kill cycle. Why are we just hearing about this?"

"The variation in demographic of the victims and the different causes of death prevented local law enforcement from connecting the crimes early on."

"What finally helped them make the connection?"

"So far they haven't found anything definite."

"Why are they calling us in now?" Derek sounds as confused as JJ looks. The BAU doesn't typically consult on crime rates. It's Reid who answers, full of useful statistics as usual.

"This kind of violent, apparently motiveless homicide in such a rural area is fairly uncommon. Local police mostly deal with domestic disputes, racial tensions, and alcohol and drug-related crimes. It's likely they simply aren't equipped to handle a spike like this."

"So what's our job?"

"To find what connection exists between the victims, if any," says Hotch, "and to determine the cause of this recent spike in homicides in the area. If this is a single killer, it's a completely adaptable serial murder. They will be extremely hard to catch, and it's unlikely they'll stop until they are caught. If there are multiple killers, we could have an epidemic on our hands. Wheels up in an hour."

* * *

 The clean, softly-lit interior of the jet is always soothing to Spencer. He relaxes in his seat beside Emily and across from Morgan, flipping through the victims file.

"They worked vastly different jobs, lived in different neighborhoods, attended different churches. In a community this small it's likely that everyone knew everyone at least by name or reputation, but as far as concrete connections go, the victims seem to have been completely isolated from one another. Amy Torres has two kids in the Habersham County school system and Mike Lewallen was a teacher, but both the Torres children went to the elementary school and Mike taught in the high school."

"Okay," says Derek, flipping back to Mike Lewallen's file. "So we look for other similarities. Mike Lewallen was found in the parking lot of the hospital where he had been visiting his mom. Maybe all the victims were killed in places that were connected to them somehow. Was Hailee a student at Piedmont?"

"No." Garcia speaks up from the in-plane monitor. "Her file says she was attending the University of Georgia as a chemistry major, but she was home visiting for spring break."

"She attends a campus notorious for violent incidents," Emily murmured thoughtfully, "in a town with a higher than average crime rate for the state, and then when she comes home where it's supposed to be safe she gets murdered in the woods."

"What I don't understand is how nobody heard anything." Rossi adds. "If she was right by a college there had to be plenty of people around to hear her if she cried for help."

"Actually, not really," Reid interjects. "There's a street between Piedmont College and the park where she was murdered, and none of the dorms are close to that end of campus. The park itself backs up to what used to be Demorest Lake. Unfortunately, due to poor city maintenance, the lake slowly filled with silt. It's been completely filled in for several years now, and is known as the Demorest Wetland. The county has designated it a protected wildlife reserve. There are miles of marsh and woods all over that area, and nothing on that end of campus is open after nine. She could easily have gone unheard."

"Which makes it likely that whoever attacked her knew the area well enough to know the murder would go unobserved and uninterrupted," Hotch points out.

"So we're looking at a local?" Derek asks.

"Or a student," Emily puts in.

"Whoever this is, they had a lotta rage. Look at the number of lacerations. They're all shallow. Not meant to kill, to wound. The bruising and the cracked ribs suggests she took a beating right before she died, too. I'd say we're looking for an adult male, mid-twenties to early thirties, and pretty fit."

"The wound to the gut would have bled out slowly, and been extremely painful," Spender adds. "The killer wanted Hailee to suffer as much as possible, and he wanted her to know she was going to die."

"Which says sadist," says Rossi.

"I don't know," JJ says slowly. "There's a level of overkill here, too. According to the M.E.'s office, the jaw was broken post-mortem." She indicates a photo. "And look at the size of the laceration on her stomach. If he wanted her to suffer more he would have made a smaller wound. It would still have been painful and fatal without immediate medical attention, but it would have taken her twice as long to die. He practically gutted her. Look at the way her fists are clenched in the photo. I don't think he posed her. I think she was...trying to hold everything in." She looks slightly sick as she says it. Emily grimaces across from her.

"That's a gruesome thought," she says.

"So it's personal," Derek says. "But the guy's also a sadist."

"Great," Spencer mumbles sarcastically.

* * *

The nearest landing strip was in Clayton, Georgia, half an hour away from their destination. They touched down at 09:00 and headed straight for the county police department, a sturdy, two-story brick building in Clarkesville, the county seat. They were greeted by the local sheriff, a gruff and somewhat inhospitable man who didn't seem at all excited by the prospect of being assisted by the FBI. Aaron got the distinct feeling he had not been the one to decide they should be called in.

"Agent Hotchner," he said, offering his hand to shake. "Sheriff Brant Mills. We've set y'all up in the mayor's conference room upstairs, as we don't have the kind of facilities you're most likely used to in the sheriff's office down here."

"Thank you," Aaron said graciously. "I'm sure that will be fine." It was less than ideal, to have his team separated from the police department and instead situated next to the politicians, but he wasn't going to waste valuable time arguing about it. "We'll get set up and then one of your men can fill us in on any new developments."

"Sure thing, Boss," Sheriff Mills said, just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his tone. Emily stared as the man departed.

"So much for southern hospitality," she said quietly. Aaron gave her a warning look, then turned to address the whole team.

"Reid, I want you working on a geographic profile. JJ, see if you can get the sheriff's office to coordinate with you. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, and I will question the victims' families. Try to get a picture of the lives of each victim, see if there are any connections or similarities that our files don't cover. Prentiss and I will take the first three. Rossi, you and Morgan take the last two."

His team nodded their acknowledgement and split off to begin their separate tasks. Prentiss turned to him.

"Okay," she said, "so who first? Oweda Kelley's daughter or Hailee's parents?"

"Mrs. Kelley's house, actually," he said. "Then we'll interview the daughter. Mrs. Kelley was the only one attacked in her own home. She lived alone."

"So if the unsub knew that," Prentiss caught on, "he would have felt comfortable, taken his time. And if he didn't..."

"Exactly. I'm hoping taking a look at the crime scene will give us a read on whether or not the unsub knew Oweda Kelley's living arrangements and routine. Hopefully that will establish whether he's a planner, or just extremely bold."

"Let's hope he's a planner," said Emily grimly. "If this is the work of one killer, and he's this fearless and diverse in his victimology?"

"I know," said Hotch. "There's no way to tell who he'll go after next."


End file.
